


The Rubble of Our Sins

by YoureMyTicket



Series: Fortunate To Be Loved By You [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Season 2, The Dauphin being cute, Trial and punishment, moving forward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-07-15 19:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoureMyTicket/pseuds/YoureMyTicket
Summary: How Aramis finds out about the war and how Anne finds out about Aramis





	1. Chapter 1

_God, if you spare her_

"Aramis, three musketeers are here looking for you."

His breath caught in his throat. Three? It had to be his brothers. Had something happened back in Paris? Did Rochefort leave something behind, have a plan to be enacted in case of his demise as the Cardinal had done? Were Anne and the Dauphin still in danger?

After inquiring where they were, he left his room and swiftly made his way downstairs. Upon reaching the dining hall, he saw Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan waiting for him by the fireplace.

"What's happened? Why aren't you all in Paris?" He tried to discern any clues from their expressions. It didn't seem like it was a dire emergency at least.

"We're being sent to the front," Porthos answered.

"The front?"

"War has been declared on Spain," said Athos.

Aramis exhaled and leaned a hand against the fireplace. They should have known that the King would not take Spain's actions against France without retaliating. Even though Rochefort had ended up acting on his own volition, and he had allegedly never been directed to hurt the King or the Queen, Spain had still placed a spy in the French court and King Louis was a vindictive man.

He nodded. "I'll inform the Abbott so that we can start preparations."

"We?" Porthos' eyes narrowed. "The four of us need to get back before the regiment rides for the border."

Aramis put his hands on his waist. He feared this was going to be harder than the first goodbye. "I'm not going back with you."

"Aramis--"

"I told you I wouldn't be talked out of this." He tried not to sound too blunt, too harsh, but he couldn't let them wear him down.

"But we're at war now." There was an edge to Porthos' voice but it softened when he spoke again. "We need you, Aramis. France needs you."

He turned away and stared into the flames. War is such a brutal and unforgiving thing, and this will be d'Artagnan's first time…maybe he should be there for his brothers.

Parting the fabric of his robe, he put his left hand in his pocket. Finding his crucifix, he held it so tightly he thought it might leave an imprint on his palm. After arriving at the monastery, he had taken it off in favor for a more simple wooden cross befitting a monk, but he could not part from it and the reminder of what he was doing this for, so he had the chain changed to that of a rosary and moved it to his pocket, allowing him to continue to carry it with him always.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself. "I nearly destroyed France and almost got you all killed. I think you would do much better without me."

"How can you say that?" d'Artagnan asked in an incredulous voice.

"Because it's the truth." He let go of the crucifix and turned to face his brothers, resolute in his decision. "I need to be here. I need to keep my vow."

"Need to or want to?" Porthos asked, though he wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I made a vow to God, Porthos, I have--"

"I get it," Porthos said gruffly, cutting him off, "I can see that your mind's made up." He turned to Athos, "I  _want_  to be getting back soon if that's all right with you, Captain."

"Porthos..." Aramis softly pleaded. He didn't want them to part like this.

Porthos looked back at him, and it hurt Aramis to see him so forlorn. "Sorry for interrupting your prayers."

"Go on," Athos said to Porthos, and as he started to walk away, Athos nodded to d'Artagnan to go with him.

The dejection in d'Artagnan's eyes when they met his pricked his heart. He knew he was disappointing him. "Goodbye, Aramis," d'Artagnan told him.

"Goodbye, d'Artagnan, and stay safe."

D'Artagnan gave him a small nod and with his head hung low, went and followed Porthos outside.

Athos stayed motionless as he watched them leave.

"Captain?" Aramis asked tentatively, wondering if he had heard right.

"Tréville was made Minister For War, so the captaincy fell to me. You had already left before Tréville could put you up for it I suppose."

Aramis scoffed. "Is that supposed to make me laugh or entice me to come back? You were always the obvious choice as Tréville's successor. You and then Porthos. Even if I did want it, Tréville and the King would never allow it, not after everything that happened."

Athos stepped closer to him and looked into the flickering flames. "They would be grateful to have you fighting for France."

Sighing, he rubbed his temple and wondered if the fighting would ever truly end. "I have too much innocent blood on my hands, Athos. I cannot go out there and mindlessly kill others."

"You are not responsible for the lives Rochefort took," Athos told him, his gaze piercing, willing him to believe.

"I may not have ordered the executions or...put the poison in that vial, but I put them in danger. I put you all in danger. I let the Cardinal's threat strike fear into my heart and push all rational thought aside." If only he had realised sooner that being with Marguerite would do more to put Anne and the Dauphin's lives in jeopardy than protect them. If only he had kept his promise to Anne to stay away.

"That's all it was though, a threat," Athos tried to assure him. "The Cardinal is gone. Rochefort is gone. You don't need to worry about them hurting anyone anymore."

"It's not just them though." Aramis ran a hand through his hair. "When the Dauphin was ill my thoughts were constantly going back to him. That day, in the market, I had the shot. I had it, but then I heard a baby crying in the crowd...and Porthos could have been killed because I let myself get distracted. I could have prevented those innocent people from being caught in the firefight."

Athos bowed his head. "And the Dauphin could have died that day. I shouldn't have allowed you to take on so much." He looked back up at him. "It was a mistake, Aramis, but you can't protect everyone either."

"But I can lessen the danger I bring," he countered. "Joining you in battle would only hinder you, not help. I don't want you or the others to be worrying about me or relying on me when my heart is so heavy and my mind is so clouded. I have strayed too far from God, Athos, and I will not go back on my vow after He answered my prayers, and saved the Queen and myself despite my sins."

Athos shrugged. "I cannot force you to leave. If you wish to stay then so be it."

"I'm sorry if it feels like I'm abandoning you all, but I do need to do this."

"Very well." Athos put a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you find peace here, brother."

MMMMMMMMMM

Anne was in bed and playing with her son during their morning time together when she heard the doors to her antechamber open and then footsteps approaching her bedroom. In the mere seconds that it took to see who it was, she could not stop Rochefort from appearing at the door to her bedroom, garrotte in hand. She knew it was impossible, she had made sure to watch as his last breath left his body, but in the days that followed he still haunted her. Every man that bore the slightest resemblance to him was Rochefort, every person who came to her rooms unannounced, every shadow would cause her to see visions of him. At night she would reimagine him coming into her room, and sometimes Constance and Aramis were not there to stop him.

She had considered moving into another part of the palace, but ultimately decided against it. She would not allow his ghost to chase her from her rooms, to continue to manipulate her. And seeing Constance appear in the doorway only reaffirmed what she already knew; that she had nothing to fear, not when she had friends like Constance.

Anne picked up her son, as he was currently lying on her legs, and sat him on her lap. "Darling, say hello to the new Madame d'Artagnan," she said, taking her son's hand and waving it. The smile Constance greeted them with quickly fell though and there was no point trying to avoid the reason why.

"You saw d'Artagnan and the others off?"

Nodding, Constance accepted Anne's invitation to sit on the side of her bed, grabbing one of the Dauphin's toys that was laying on it and handing it to him as she did. "We finally have the chance to be together and he gets sent off to war."

Her heart broke for her friend. "I could still see about keeping his duties here in Paris, ask for him to be made the Dauphin's personal guard perhaps," she proposed, glancing down at her son as she began rubbing her thumb back and forth on his back. She hadn't dared to try and talk Louis out of declaring war while their relationship was just starting to heal, nor did she think it would be wise to ask for all four of her musketeers to stay, but maybe she could save one of them. The others were seasoned soldiers with valuable experience, but d'Artagnan had never fought in a war, and he was the King's champion; Louis might be swayed to keep him in Paris.

Constance shook her head. "Thank you, Your Majesty, but he wouldn't want to be treated differently from the others, nor would he want to leave them."

"No, he wouldn't, would he." Their loyalty to each other was legendary.

"Especially since…" Constance's eyes darted over to the doors. "Aramis didn't go with them."

Her hand stilled on her son. "What do you mean? Why not?" Did something happen to Aramis? Had he been hiding serious injuries from his ordeal during Rochefort's attempted coup? Given a different assignment? Was Louis behind this?

"He resigned his commision and joined a monastery," Constance paused, letting the words sink in. "They went out to tell him about the war and bring him back but he's staying there. Said he made a vow."

Anne let out the breath she was holding as her body relaxed in relief. A monastery. Away from danger.

Constance was still looking at her with concern when she glanced over at her. "I told him while they were hiding me from Rochefort, I told him to run while he still could," Anne explained. "I wanted him to save himself and he is."

"I think he's doing it to save more than just himself," Constance told her softly as she reached over to take the Dauphin's offered toy and then promptly put it back into his outstretched hands.

Anne's heart clenched as she understood Constance's meaning. Aramis had also told her at the convent that he would not allow anything to happen to her because of him. So was this a way for him to keep her safe as well? To leave Paris and the musketeers?

And was this forever? When he told her that she and their son were safe, was that the last time she would ever see him? Ever hear his voice? She ran a hand over her son's head. He'd never get to know his father, would he. And would Aramis get to see his son again? See his friends?

The guilt started to creep up on her as she thought of all that he was giving up. But if this was the price for his safety, she would pay it.

She tilted her head down and nodded minutely before laying a hand on Constance's knee. "I will be praying for the others, as I'm sure he will."

Constance covered her hand with hers and gave her a small smile.

"D'Artagnan will come back to you, and in the meantime, this one will keep us occupied, won't you, my darling boy." Anne brought her hand back and tickled her son's side to his delight, but when she glanced over to Constance, she found her looking down at her hands and biting her lip.

"Constance, is there something else? Please, tell me."

"Majesty," Constance started, sounding apprehensive, "since Tréville will be spending most of his time here, and with Athos and the others going to the front, the garrison could use some help with the day-to-day running of the place…"

"And you would be of more help there," Anne finished for her.

"It's not that I don't wish to be here with you anymore-and I will always be grateful for being given this position-I just don't think I'm cut out for a life at court."

"I understand," Anne told her, taking her hand and squeezing it. "You may go. The garrison needs you. Help them as you have helped me."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." She leaned closer, worry returning to her expression. "Will you be all right though?"

"Don't worry about me," Anne assured her, shaking her head. "I'll be fine. And you will visit when you can, yes?"

"Of course," Constance told her emphatically.

"It's settled then." Anne said brightly and released her hand. "Take your time in gathering your things, have the servants help you if you want, and don't hesitate to come to me if you ever need anything."

"Thank you, again, for letting me do this."

"I want you to be happy, Constance, don't let me stop you from following your heart."

Nodding, Constance stroked the Dauphin's cheek. "Goodbye, little prince. Be good for your mother." She stood up. "Goodbye, Your Majesty."

Anne smiled at her as she curtsied and then watched her leave, all the while trying to keep her gathering tears at bay. Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan were off to fight in a war her marriage was supposed to have prevented, Aramis had possibly left for good, and she wouldn't even have Constance by her side to help her get through it all.

It was selfish of her to want to keep them here though. France needed its best soldiers after Spain had incited such chaos, and Constance needed to be free to help others. As for Aramis, it was better this way. While she would still be worrying about his brothers on the battlefield, she wouldn't have to worry about him all the while dreaming about seeing him when he returned, and nursing false hope for a relationship that could never be.

She blinked and a few stubborn tears escaped her eyes. With one hand holding up her son, she used the other to wipe at her eyes, but wasn't fast enough to stop one fat tear from landing on her son's shoulder.

"Oh, silly Maman has water coming out of her eyes." She brushed the fabric with her finger. "I'm sorry, darling."

"Dah."

Anne gasped. "Did you say something? Say it again, darling-oh, are you trying to say 'darling'?"

"Dah," he repeated.

Anne gave a watery laugh. "Ambitious are we?"

Bringing her knees up, she placed her son against her legs so that they were facing each other, and grasped his wrists. "Why don't we try something simpler like...M-no, 'Papa'. Yes, Papa would love that."

It was time to face reality and truly accept that Louis will be her son's father. Aramis can't and won't be here with them, and she would not let his sacrifice be in vain.

"I will protect you," she said softly, "always."


	2. Chapter 2

_The stories were true?_

"What shall we read tonight, hmm?" Anne asked her son as she settled down on the chaise longue in the nursery, holding little Louis against her shoulder with one arm and the book,  _Esbatement Moral, Des Animaux,_ in the other _._

Just as she opened the book, a soft knock made her look up and see Tréville standing in the doorway.

"Tréville," Anne greeted him.

He walked into the room, stopping once he was a couple feet away from her. "Your Majesty, I hope I am not interrupting," Tréville said, glancing down at the book in her lap.

"Oh no," she told him, closing the book and placing her right foot, which was currently hanging off the edge of the chaise, on the floor. "I'm starting to put him to bed-emphasis on the starting. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I...was just passing by and heard you talking to the Dauphin, thought I would look in."

"Would you like to sit?" Anne moved the book to the side and then made sure her skirts weren't taking up too much space. Even though he had been minister for several weeks now, she hadn't had much chance to talk to him alone.

Nodding curtly, Tréville sat next to her. "Living and working here at the palace means I don't have to travel to and from the garrison so much, but now I don't have that riding time to think and clear my head. I've started walking around the halls to get away from my desk…" he trailed off, seemingly distracted by the Dauphin, who had started pulling at the blanket loosely wrapped around him.

"It's an adjustment, I'm sure, but I know the King likes having you close by, as do I." After the Cardinal and Rochefort, it gave her peace of mind to know a good, trustworthy man like Tréville had taken their place at the King's side. She was also glad to still have someone who she could honestly talk to.

Tréville smiled softly at her in response, but his gaze quickly returned to the boy who he now knew to be the son of one of his musketeers.

She suddenly wondered if he had actually wanted to take a closer look but was hesitant about making such a request. Now that she thought of it, he had never held her son. He had been congratulatory and visibly pleased when he was born, and he would give a small smile when he noticed that the child was looking at him, but he was always standing with his hands clasped behind his back or holding his hat while the other rested on the pommel of his sword, and never expressed a desire to hold him. She didn't take any offense to it, she simply assumed that the hardened soldier didn't care for holding infants or perhaps did not think it proper to coddle the royal heir in front of the court or even the nursemaids. They were alone now though, the nursemaids and new governess having left to allow Anne her usual time alone with her son before bed, and Tréville's hands were resting in his lap.

"Do you want to hold him?"

His eyes flickered up to her and his lips parted slightly at the question, but there was no immediate answer. After a few seconds though, he held out his arms.

The Dauphin made some noises of complaint over the change, which had Tréville whispering "Sorry, sorry" as he gingerly took her son from her, but he quickly quieted down once he was settled in Tréville's arms and became interested in the shiny medal hanging from the new minister's neck.

After a brief glance at the doorway, Tréville looked back down at the Dauphin. "Aramis...did he ever get to hold him?"

She nodded, smiling sadly at the memory. "While escorting us to safety following the eclipse viewing." The sight of Aramis seeing their son, talking to him, holding him, was something that would both comfort and haunt her for the rest of her days. "I know I should not say it, but I wish he could have had more time with him."

"It's for the best that he didn't," Tréville assured her before returning his attention back to her son, searching, most likely, for traces of Aramis. After a while he lightly sighed. "I should have known."

Anne was about to open her mouth to explain why she and Aramis hadn't told him, but he spoke again before she could.

"He inherited his father's knack for attracting trouble." He shook his head but then when he looked up at her there was a glint in his eyes and crinkles appearing at the corners. "But also his charm."

Anne couldn't help but smile. "And his courage."

Tréville hummed in agreement. "He'll make a fine king." Handing Louis back, he then stood up and turned to face her. "And I will do my best to see France to victory long before it's his time to sit on the throne."

"The King couldn't have chosen a better Minister of War." She had the utmost faith in Tréville to do all he could to end this war as quickly as possible, not only for the sake of France, but so that their musketeers could come back home.

Before he could bow, she decided to voice something that had been casting a dark shadow on her mind. "Tréville, if there are ever any ill tidings regarding my musketeers, please tell me as soon as you know, don't keep it from me to try and protect me." She looked into his eyes. "And if anything should happen to d'Artagnan, I want to be there when you tell Constance."

"Yes, Majesty," he said, turning solemn. "I pray I will never have to, but I will see to it that you are informed if it ever comes to that."

"I pray the same of course, and I don't think it will, but thank you nonetheless." She was confident that Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan would make it back with their lives, but if she had learned anything from this past year, it was to be cautious and not take things for granted. "And don't hesitate to come by if you ever just want to talk or spend time with the Dauphin. We'll be here."

"Very good, Majesty. Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Good night, Tréville."

Once he left the room she leaned back into the pillows on the chaise longue, glad to be relieved of some of the thoughts that had been weighing on her, and pleased to have facilitated this interaction between Tréville and the Dauphin. She found herself wishing once again though that Aramis could have been there, and seen his son properly introduced to a man who he likely looked up to as a father as she did.

She shook her head. She was supposed to be trying to forget him, but it was proving harder than she thought it would be. Her rational mind knew that wishing he were there would only make her miserable, but her heart knew that he should be.

Sighing heavily, she picked up the book. "I know what we should read first." She flipped through the pages until she reached the story she was looking for.

"Ready, darling?" She asked little Louis. "This is the story of 'The Dog and Its Reflection.'"

MMMMMM

"Brother Aramis," the Abbott proclaimed, smiling as he approached Aramis on his way out of the chapel, "now that you have been here a year and are now a novice, it is time for you to be given official duties. And I think I have an assignment that will suit you quite well,"

"Abbott," said Aramis, acknowledging the man with a nod of his head. "What it is that you have in mind?" He was curious as he had spent the past several months helping the brothers with their crops or moving casks of wine and had been quite content with doing any physical labour which kept his mind occupied and made him tired enough to fall asleep easily.

"Do you know of Brother Jerome and his growing flock?"

"I do." He had seen the wizened old man leading his small group of children around the monastery grounds from time to time. But what did that mean for him?

"I would like you to take over this position of tutoring and tending to the children," the Abbott informed him with a grin.

Taking care of children? After leaving his own son to come here? "Abbott, I don't know..."

"At his age," the Abbott began before he could come up with a more solid response, "it can be difficult for Brother Jerome to keep up with his wards, and he would like to devote more of his time to prayer and meditation. You are a young, energetic, and learned man, and I expect more children will be in need of our care as the war goes on; I believe you are the best man to take on this task."

"What about Brother Valerius? I've mostly been working under him, and the sale of our wine is in large part how this monastery sustains itself, is he all right with giving me up?" He liked Brother Valerius, he liked the work, and he was not keen on this new assignment.

"Yes, I've discussed this with Brother Valerius and he assures me he can make do. He even suggested that you could bring the children outside and work in the smaller gardens together as part of your lessons," the Abbott replied happily.

"But, Abbott, do you really think it wise for me to be put in charge of these children considering...my past?" He had told the Abbott in confession, though without using names or titles, about his relationship with a married woman of the nobility and that she had borne his child. He also vaguely alluded to the trouble they got into because of his love for them. The man knew he had left a son behind and that it weighed heavily on him, why would he want him to be reminded of it? Unless...that  _was_  what he wanted. Was this to be his penance?

"It is your past that first made me consider you for the position, yes," the Abbott admitted.

"Then you should know I would be no good for them. I could not take care of my son and only put him in danger by trying to protect him." If he was too broken to go to war with his brothers, he surely was in no fit state to care for multiple orphaned children.

"And then you gave up all you had and left behind all you loved to keep him safe. We are all God's children, Aramis, and these ones could use such devotion."

Sighing, Aramis put his hands on his hips, unsure of what to say.

"Come, Brother, why don't I introduce you to them." The Abbott waved a hand to follow him. "Then perhaps you can assist Brother Jerome for a few weeks and make sure the children take a liking to you."

Aramis frowned-all children liked him.

"At the moment there are three in our care. The oldest is Luc, who is thirteen and has also been here the longest, having arrived several months after you," the Abbott started to recount. "He had been out in the woods with his widowed father, collecting from their traps, when a couple of Spanish soldiers came upon them and demanded they hand over the animals they had caught. When they refused, Luc's father was killed and Luc was knocked unconscious and left for dead. He was found by some of our brothers who were out foraging for truffles and heard the commotion. When they attempted to bring Luc to his home, they saw that the soldiers were part of a larger group that had made camp there, so the brothers brought him back here."

Aramis shook his head at hearing such injustice. To have his father murdered and then be left for dead, and for what, a few rabbits or squirrels? And then to find the same men have taken over your home? His heart went out to the boy.

"There was another boy who came after him, but he was here less than a month before an uncle collected him. That leaves us with our most recent arrivals, twelve-year-old Adele and little Marie, who is nearly four. They arrived here together two months ago..."

He felt a pang in his already heavy heart at the reminder of his own Adele. This assignment was sounding more and more like a punishment designed by God to challenge him in every way possible.

"Their families owned a couple of small farms," the Abbott continued, "but when the Spanish learned they were giving aid to French soldiers, they set the land on fire. Adele's parents and an older brother perished while trying to free the animals from a burning barn. Marie's father had also been in the barn when the structure collapsed. Adele took Marie and fled here after the soldiers killed Marie's mother and started ransacking their homes."

His jaw dropped and his blood boiled as he imagined the horrors these children had gone through. He had never wanted to go out and join his brothers on the battlefield more than he did in this moment. He would gladly sacrifice his life out there if he were able to dispatch those soldiers to Hell first. Where was their honour? Their decency?

"Adele doesn't talk much but we know that she has an another older brother fighting in the war who will hopefully make it back to her," the Abbott added as they neared the room where the children slept and had their lessons.

Faint crying could be heard coming from the room, and upon entering he saw the source of the sound to be the little girl, Marie. Brother Jerome sat next to her on a bed, comforting her while the older two children walked slowly around the room, seemingly looking for something.

"Evening, Abbott, we are looking for Marie's dolly as she absolutely cannot go to bed without her," Brother Jerome informed them. He turned to a red-faced Marie. "Are you sure this room is where you last had it and not outside?"

Marie sniffled and nodded that she was sure before sobbing a couple more times.

Aramis stepped further into the room, looking around as he did. Luc and Adele were getting on their hands and knees and looking under the beds. Since they were covering the floor, Aramis scanned the area above them, first checking the table and the shelves in case someone had put the doll there while tidying up, and then the tops of the bookcases and wardrobes in case it had been thrown up there. He decided to climb onto the top of nearest bunk to get a better vantage, and as he looked around the room, he spotted a lump in the center of the bed directly above Marie's.

He pointed to it. "Is that it on the bed there-on top of Marie's?"

Luc was quick to reach the ladder and climb up. "Yes. Got her, Marie." Aramis started to climb down the ladder while Luc grabbed the doll. He then saw Luc hand it over to Marie with a small smile. "Here you go, she must have been sleeping."

Marie gratefully took her doll, her face lighting up. Brother Jerome, however, raised an eyebrow at her. "I hope Dolly wasn't put up there intentionally since I've told you that you can't sleep up there." He turned to Aramis and the Abbott. "She has trouble getting down and it's hard for me to help her."

Aramis knew Brother Jerome to be on the shorter side and with a glance took note of his gnarled hands. His back probably wasn't in the best condition either.

"Well then," said the Abbott, clapping his hands together, "now that we can all settle down, children, I'd like you to meet Brother Aramis, he will be working alongside Brother Jerome and helping you with your lessons." He turned towards Aramis and put a hand out towards the children, all of whom were now sitting on the bed with Brother Jerome. "Aramis, this is Adele, Luc, and Marie."

"Hello, Adele, Luc, Marie-and Dolly," he greeted with a bow of his head, and was pleased to see Marie smile at her doll's inclusion.

"Brother, thank you for joining us. Now, usually I tell or read a story before everyone goes to bed, but why don't you give it a try tonight-if you're up for it that is."

Aramis stepped closer, "Well, children, what kind of stories do you like to hear?"

Luc was the first to answer. "Adventures."

"Bad men lose!" Marie piped up.

"Adele, what about you?"

The young girl looked up at him sheepishly before looking back down and saying in a timid voice, "Um...heroes who saves princesses?"

Taking all their wants into account Aramis knew he had plenty of stories he could tell. Of course he did, because his brothers did all those things.

And he wasn't going to let his memories and the people he left behind stop him from being there for these children, these children who had lost everything, who had no choice but to come here. No, he would use his memories, his life, to help them. His son still had Anne. He had Tréville, Constance, the King, and Aramis' brothers once they returned from war. He will have the best tutors and will want for nothing. As for his brothers, he will turn them into the heroes they deserve to be known as.

His mind was made up. He was going take care of these children and any others who come here seeking refuge. This will be his contribution to the war effort. This is how he will work towards the redemption of his soul.

"I think I have a story that meets your criteria...with a twist," he told them with a wry smile and a couple pumps of his eyebrows.

"Splendid. I have a some things to discuss with the Abbott while you tell your tale." Aramis helped Brother Jerome to stand. "I'll just be over there."

Sitting on the bed opposite Marie's, he waited for the children to get comfortable. "Tell me, do you know of the King's Musketeers?"

"They're sort of elite soldiers who guard the royal family, aren't they?" Answered Luc.

"Indeed, they are best of the best and they go on missions in the name of the King. They also guard His Majesty, along with the Queen and now the Dauphin, when they're outside of the palace."

"If you have stories about the Queen I'd like that too," Adele told him, sounding more sure of herself. "I've heard she's very beautiful."

He couldn't stop her from appearing before his eyes, glittering in all her majesty, and smiling down on their son in her arms the last time he saw her. Nor could he stop the smile tugging at corners of his mouth as the memory changed to her by the riverside, wearing her bathing gown and a simple cloak. She had her hair down, and the sunlight that dappled through the trees made it shine where it touched upon it. She had been so eager to help though her life was in danger.

"So what if she's beautiful," said Luc, interrupting his thoughts, "she's Spanish. It's because of her countrymen that we're here."

Aramis cleared his throat. "The Queen," he said pointedly, "is as beautiful and kind as an angel. And you shouldn't judge others based on where they were born. Her Majesty cares a great deal for France and its people." He hoped that Luc wouldn't press the matter. He didn't want Adele to regret speaking, and, well, he didn't think his heart could take such a discussion right now.

He put his hands up. "That being said, the story I have in mind for tonight  _is_  about a princess from a far away land, and the musketeers have to fend off assassins to protect her on her journey to Paris, only...she isn't really a princess…"

"Then what is she?" Asked Luc.

"You'll have to listen to the story to find out."

"Tell us! Tell us!" Marie exclaimed.

"All right, all right. I will, don't worry." He took a deep breath. "Once upon a time, there were three musketeers named Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I did it again...and added another chapter where I didn't intend to have one. I was working on the S3 scenes and just had Tréville and Anne's conversation as a reference, but then dialogue started coming to me and it snowballed into a whole scene. Then it got me thinking about Aramis and here we are.
> 
> Historical/background info: If my research is correct, Esbatement moral, Des animaux is a French verse adaptation of Aesop's Fables. One fable, "The Fox and The Crow" is used for the printing press in 3x08, so I thought it possible that Anne could have read them to little Louis and then suggested they be used to teach the people morals and lessons as well as literacy, along with making them feel closer to the royal heir. In Anne's case here, she is also reminding herself of a lesson, as the moral of "The Dog and Its Reflection" is to be careful not to lose what you have by being greedy for more.

**Author's Note:**

> Historical background/inspiration: "In spite of her sufferings, the Queen Mother attempted even now [on her deathbed] to retain some of the lightness of touch in desperate situations which had endeared her for so long and over so many crises to her household. 'I am not crying, this is just water coming out of my eyes' she said to the Duchess of Molina. 'In truth, Your Majesty is very red' replied the Duchess, also in Spanish. 'Well, Molina, I've got a good big fever' said the Queen, trying to speak lightly." -Antonia Fraser, Love and Louis XIV: The Women in the Life of the Sun King
> 
> A/N: A happy 417th birthday to Anne (sorry this wasn't a very happy chapter for you)


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